


you stole my heart (but I had it first)

by thedreamerdelta



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, I blame Naut, M/M, Magical Bondage, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Power Imbalance, The Author Regrets Everything, and hawk, kind of, remember kids it’s trash can not trash can’t, the whole trashfire squad really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamerdelta/pseuds/thedreamerdelta
Summary: back on my bullshit, yall.Exploring the dumpsterfire that is these three tossed into one relationship. I blame - well, they know who they are.5.0 spoilers for now, eventual 5.3 spoilers, slight 5.4 references but only if you know what you’re looking forFirst chapter istechnicallysfw but it sure as heck isn’t gonna stay that way
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	1. know your place

“You may have had a hand in creating the empire of Allag, Emet-Selch. And this tower would not have been built without the technologies of the ancients, the sun and its boundless energies transformed into a mere resource of power for this guiding light, this is true.” He adjusts his grip and continues to focus his gaze on the Warrior through the viewing portal, seemingly uncaring that the Ascian is at his back. 

“Exactly. And as such,” Hades prods, “I know what this tower can do - and what it can _not._ So I ask again, who _are_ you, Exarch?”

It was a mere bluff, but the other man didn’t need to know that. The Crystal Tower was one of the Allagan’s greatest projects next to Azys Lla, and while Hades didn’t himself build either of them, he _did_ take pride in saying he gave the architects the more _pertinent_ pointers they had needed.

The day it was finished, he had looked up at the sky and smiled lazily, knowing its power would be too much for any one of them to leave alone. And as Amon had descended into madness like he’d successfully predicted, he retreated to another shard, content in letting them wreck their empire until it was crumbling around their feet.

“You would know what I am?” The viewing portal shuts off as the Exarch turns around, devoting his full and undivided attention to Hades at last.

Hades firmly does _not_ think about the chill that runs down his back as he feels the weight of the man’s scrutiny on him.

The Exarch smiles. “I am the adjudicator of the sacred history with which you dared trifle. _I_ am the inheritor of its indomitable legacy-”

He scoffs. _“You_ are a mere princeling, drunk on power you should not by all rights have-”

With a sharp tap of his staff to the Ocular’s marbled floor, the Exarch cuts him off, and a wave of power comes from the walls to catch at him from behind, wrapping around his legs, his arms - his neck, even. Hades is forced to straighten his back in order avoid getting scorched by the blue fire of the man’s magical bindings.

Well. This was unexpected.

The shorter man takes long, effortless strides across the room, gathering power in his wake as he encroaches almost predator-like into Hades’ space. For all his lengthy observations of the man, he had never seen him act quite like this. How curious.

“On the contrary,” The Exarch whispers dangerously, magicked glamour dropping slightly to reveal the gleaming eyes of brightest scarlet beneath. “I have the _only_ right.” 

Ah, he sees now - a descendant of the royal line, Hades realizes. It was no wonder the tower so brightly sung in his presence, chiming with the satisfaction of being able to fulfilling its long-ago programmed purpose. The Exarch’s coils of magic finish enclosing his vessel in their clutches and he feels his connection to the energies of creation alarmingly lessen until it is a mere thread, just enough to keep him tethered to the flesh he was inhabiting.

Does… Does the man know _everything_ he can do with it? he wonders faintly.

Nonsense.

“So,” Emet-Selch blusters, “a princeling, as I’d said. Well then, _Your Highness_ ," and oh how he wishes his hand were free to bow to his waist in mock genuflection, “I shall be more than happy to serve as your _ever-loyal_ subject, seeing as you have me effectively at your disposal.”

The Exarch’s lips quirk into a sly smile.

“Why yes, Emet-Selch, I _am_ your Highness. How _kind_ of you to acknowledge this. Yet a mere programming node could do the same, and dare I say it - better.”

The nerve of this man-!

He chuckles. “To my citizens, of course, I am their Crystal Exarch - and yet they must remain ignorant of my origins, and this tower, this testament to time that you and I know from the Source. You, on the other hand, have no such - limitations.” The Exarch looks him over carefully - and then nods, seemingly have come to a decision.

“Very well. If you wish to remain a visitor in _my_ tower, a welcomed trespasser in my domain, a subject to my _kingdom,_ if you will…”

Hades is startled by the bonds disappearing - visually at least, but he could still feel them yet fettering his power even if not his movement.

“As a fellow historian, I shall grant you this one chance, Ascian. If you wish to witness this, my undoing of your devilish designs for this star, firsthand at my side,” The Exarch smirks and tilts Hades' chin down so he is forced to look the man directly in the face, hooded eyes of crimson seemingly trying to burn their way into his soul.

“Then _kneel.”_

His breath catches in his chest, and not a single thought manages to pass through his mind before his knees hit the marbled floor below.


	2. something to prove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~i'm sorry?~~
> 
> CW for this chapter: D/s mechanics, face slapping, possessiveness, slight blood mention  
> 5.3 spoilers.

Get up! Hades yells at himself. What are you, a mere _centenarian_?

His limbs steadfastly refuse to cooperate, as if weighed down by the unfathomable burden of too many years lived moreso than the gravity of his actions.

“So…” The Exarch’s expression softened into something slightly more awestruck before sharpening once more. Hades held in a wince as the man’s coarse crystal hand brushed roughly against his cheek in a chafing, jagged caress. “It seems you  _ do _ know your place, then. Well, this certainly changes things, does it not?”

The crimson gleam of his eyes was captivating in its regard, enthralling in its silent promises. 

“Mayhap we shall play a little  _ game_, of which I’m sure you are quite fond of, yes? Do you know, I have yet to meet an Ascian who was content  _ not _ playing with their prey.” Hades levelled a glare at the other man, who ignored him in favor of stroking his chin in a mockery of some deep thought or other. “Ah, but of course, one must needs remember the Ascian in this case  _ is _ the prey. How  _ difficult _ it must be for you to not be the one with the power here...” 

Well, he wasn’t  _ entirely _ wrong. Lahabrea certainly had no qualms about playing with his toys… Of course, Lahabrea was also one to not stick around very long after he was done, either. But Hades had designs long in the works for the fate of this shard. He would not so quickly see his efforts of the past years gone to waste.

The tragedy of the Thirteenth was not one he was wont to soon repeat.

Yet the man before him seemed to think he would so easily abandon his course of action for the time being, to let the sinking ship that was the First Shard steer itself safely through the waters without his hand to guide it towards its carefully constructed demise. It was true that the occasional year or two might have been merely a blink in time out of the many millennia - but still.

It was simply infuriating.  


He longed to wipe that smile off his damnable (damnably attractive, even) face, crystal and all.

“You think I have gone a thousand  _ thousand  _ of your years and never once surrendered control? To anyone? You lack  _ imagination_, Exarch.” Hades knew he was only succeeding in making a less-than-favorable situation even more precarious for him than it already was, but he couldn’t help goading the man.

The inheritor of Allag hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. And then again, perhaps  _ not_.” Symbols reappeared on Hades’ skin, brightest bluish teal flaring slightly in reminder of the bonds that now held him. “I would wager you have never given up control quite like  _ this_.” 

Hades tries desperately to ignore how hard he had gotten.

  
  
“I am nobody’s  _ plaything_!” he spits out instead as he ignores the invisible magic tugging on his aether. “I am an  _ Emperor-_”

The Exarch backhands him across the face, sharply faceted fingers opening a cut across his cheek.

(Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to antagonize this side of the Exarch when he himself had no access to his powers, Hades thinks, stunned as blood trickles slowly down his face, but - well, could you honestly blame him?)

“You  _ were _ an Emperor,” the Exarch infuriatingly corrects him, “but this is  _ my  _ domain. And for the time being, Emet-Selch,” the robed man leaned closer with a devilish grin, “so long as you’re in it - you’re  _ mine._”

The Exarch leans closer, and with a sharp tug of the dark robes to bring the kneeling man within his reach, he captures Hades’ lips possessively with his own.

Heat.   
Shame.   
_ Burning. _

No matter how much he wants to shove the shorter man away for the sake of his own ego, he can not deny the electric rush of sensation that echoes and thrums throughout his self-given form. Neither can he entirely bring himself to push away the first pleasurable physical contact he’d had since - well, since living memory, really. 

And yet, he struggled. His pride  _ must _ be satisfied. It would not do to simply let this posturing prince have his way - he was a sorcerer of eld, for crying out loud! He snaps his fingers from where they are once more anchored behind his back…

...and nothing happens, save perhaps the bonds that encircle his arms now glow the slightest bit brighter.

Well. He was  _ really  _ in for it this time, wasn’t he?

The hitherto unsurpassed energies of creation, curbed by mere crystal. That an empire built by sundered beings yet forged by his own hands - at least partially - had created a limitless structure powered by the undying sun… Azem would have laughed at the sheer irony, he thinks nostalgically. 

Usually Hades was the one telling  _ them _ not to bite off more than they can chew.

But those times were long past.

Instead, here he is - powerless to stop the Exarch from enacting whatever his small, sundered mind can come up with. 

Battered ego and bruised dignity aside, he finds the idea - in and of itself - not  _ entirely  _ unappealing.

Hades gasps as the man sharply bites his lip - and then the Exarch takes advantage of that lapse in concentration to slip his tongue in the sorcerer’s mouth, claiming him as easily from within as he had from without. He moans at the thought and his knees slacken, quivering from the strain of keeping him upright at that odd and awkward angle.

With a flash he is lifted off the ground and teleported into what he assumes are the man’s bedchambers.

“Those old limbs of yours are not used to working so hard, are they?” The Exarch drops him onto the bed. “Such a shame, really.  _ Lazy_, some might say,” he teases with a smile, eyes of scarlet burning into him from beneath the darkened hood.

“I’m not decrepit,” Hades mutters weakly as the magic swirling around his arms pulls and affixes his hands to the headboard above and behind him.

“Not quite decrepit, no.” The man’s maddening grin stays in place as he turns his attention to Hades' clothing. “But do you know what you  _ are_? You are  _ here_. You are under my control. ” Buckle by buckle, button by button, zipper by zipper - the Exarch begins to remove the former emperor’s regalia. “You wanted to be here. You  _ begged  _ me for this. And now,” he finishes firmly, "you have no other choice but to gladly and willingly take what I give you. And you are going to be _good_ for me, because you _want_ to be, Emet-Selch.”

He did not expect to be lured into temptation by this mockery of true life, this semblance of soul, but for whatever reason - by all the grace once grafted to bygone gods, he  _ wants  _ this, he thinks, arching with a hiss as the man finally bares his skin to the open air.

( _Oh, how he wants this._ )

For with every crushing touch and fiery kiss that consumes him and seemingly lights his very veins ablaze, the flames of fallen, forgotten Amaurot have never been further from his thoughts.

He surrenders to bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout outs to the lovely people at the Bookclub (especially my fellow dumpster fire trash can enablers), without whom this would have most likely never existed.
> 
> If you enjoyed my words, for some odd reason, and you like reading and/or writing fanfiction, please come join our very lovely discord community that is very [wholesomely debauched and enabling](https://discord.gg/YgkDStS), so that you, too, can write things and then immediately regret them once you have finished.


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